


Kintsugi

by Pseudopaws (Yuripaws)



Series: Break Me [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blood, Blood Kink, Bloodlust, Bloodplay, Burnplay, Consensual Kink, Discipline, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dominant Bottom, Edgeplay, Fucked Up, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rough Body Play, Rough Sex, Sadism, Straight Razors, Sub Victor Nikiforov, Submission, Viktor Suffering, Violent Sex, Wax Play, fucked up part 2 electric boogaloo, look man.................... im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 11:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuripaws/pseuds/Pseudopaws
Summary: Kintsugi: the art of repairing broken pottery with gold lacquer.Yuuri makes sure that Viktor’s pieces are sealed.[Spiritual successor (???) to Fragile.]





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I'm 100% aware that I'm going to hell, thank you very much.
> 
> One day I'll write something so fucked up that the FBI will descend upon my house and find me in my underwear surrounded by empty McDouble wrappers crying and watching Rupaul with my cat.
> 
> But until then, here's part two of what I've decided will be my "Break Me' series, which is basically just a collection of Yuuri and Viktor being disgusting.
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm not a doctor and don't try this at home, kiddos.

 

 

Fire.

Yuuri watches the flames dance, mesmerized. They flicker, they sway, they burn low. Their heat makes the wax drip, makes it run down the length of the candle, collecting at the bottom of the glass in a bubbling puddle. Glistening, shimmering, slick and hot. Everywhere, that glistening heat. So many candles, burning bright, licking and teasing.

He hears a groan, and his attention snaps back to the man beneath him.

“Y-yuuri…”

Viktor groans again, and Yuuri looks down at him with great satisfaction. His arms are bound behind him, and his eyes are…

Missing their blindfold.

Yuuri frowns at him. “I didn’t tell you to take that off.”

“I-I, no, it slipped off, I didn’t-”

Yuuri presses a finger to his lips, and his own curve into a smirk. He knows, but he likes to watch him squirm.  

Viktor’s blue eyes burn red in the firelight; his tears molten, glistening, dripping. Yuuri stares.

He’s been straddling him for some time now, pausing in the middle of their play, because he can’t tear his eyes from the flames. Dancing, teasing. He tries his best to focus.

Viktor is bruised and bitten, marked and submissive. Yuuri had enjoyed breaking him very much. He loves hearing him scream as he sinks his teeth into his neck. He loves hearing him cry out when he hits him. He loves hearing him gasp and choke when he squeezes his throat. That’s always his favorite.

Today’s a bit different. Viktor had approached him again, begging to be broken. But they had decided to try something new. Something thrilling, something dangerous. Viktor had showered him in reassurances that it’d all be okay, because Yuuri had been nervous about what Viktor had asked him to do.

But he isn’t nervous now. He’s taken out his aggressive hunger on Viktor already, and the man is pliant now. Obedient.

Yuuri isn’t nervous because the fire is so beautiful.

He reaches for one of the glasses on the bedside dresser, and it burns his fingers, but he doesn’t mind. Beneath the flickering wick, the wax flows freely; hot and thick.

He runs a hand down Viktor’s chest, fingers gliding lightly over bruises, over imprints of teeth, and Viktor shudders, looking up at him. Worshiping him.

Yuuri tips the glass slowly, his eyes never leaving Viktor’s. The wax glistens as it drips down, as it pours so very smoothly onto Viktor’s chest. His eyes widen, and he hisses in pain. But he loves it. Yuuri sees it in his eyes. And he’d love to see more of it, but he should really tie his blindfold back on. He doesn’t want to ruin the surprise.

Viktor is securely blinded now, and Yuuri leans forward to kiss him slowly. His lips are swollen and bruised and bleeding, and Yuuri sucks on them lightly before biting them. Viktor whimpers into his mouth, and now Yuuri’s tongue slides against his lips, against the broken flesh, and Viktor moans softly.

Yuuri deepens their kiss, but he’s much more gentle this time. When he pulls away, his kisses trail to Viktor’s ear.

“I’m going to start now.”

He pauses. Waiting. Searching.

“Yes,” Viktor breathes, and Yuuri can feel the desire raging within him, the need to be consumed. It makes Yuuri bare his teeth.

He kisses him again, then rises, and feels him harden beneath him. But not _too_ hard. Yuuri had disciplined him.

Yuuri reaches for another glass, and the white wax drips beautifully onto his chest once more, and Viktor winces slightly. The wax from before had hardened, and now this layer does as well. The next candle drips down to his collarbone this time, and Viktor shudders hard as it runs down his neck.

The candle after that pours lower down his chest, and Yuuri lifts himself off of him to pour it down lower, and he’s thrilled to see Viktor gasp and squirm as it runs down his navel, dripping and running lower, lower...

But it hardens. So Yuuri grabs up another candle.

Viktor cries out and jerks his hips when the hot wax finds its way to his cock. He hardens as quickly as the wax does, and Yuuri would slap him if the sight wasn’t so alluring. He presses his lips to it now, and Viktor tenses, trembling in anticipation.

Yuuri’s tongue slides out against the head of his cock, and Viktor moans, his head thrown back. Yuuri had purposely neglected him, letting him suffer, denying him even the slightest touch. Viktor whines when Yuuri pulls away, then cries out again when the wax comes down onto his thighs, onto the sensitive skin, and Yuuri drizzles it closer to his cock, to his balls, and Viktor jerks his hips again.

“Yuuri!”

Normally, he’d choke him for speaking without permission. But he’s felt a strange sort of calm this entire time. The fire soothes him; it makes him cold, unfeeling.

He grabs the next glass, and sadly sees that it’s the last one. He’ll have to wait until the previous ones had melted enough again. He rises to grab Viktor’s chin, jerking it far up, and pours the wax down onto his throat. Viktor gasps, then chokes when Yuuri squeezes him. The wax is hot and thick and wet against his fingers, and he presses it into the soft flesh of Viktor’s neck, squeezing harder, and it flakes against his fingertips when he pulls away.

Viktor takes a shuddering and gasping breath, and Yuuri pulls back further to admire his work. Beautiful crisscross patterns over his chest and stomach, hardened drips on either side. Viktor’s cock twitches, coated and hard.

Yuuri scratches lightly over the cold wax on Viktor's cock, and it slowly flakes away, revealing the slightly raw and sensitive skin underneath. There’s too much to scratch off himself, which is why they had kept the straight razor by the candles on the dresser.

It’s a beautifully crafted razor–a gold-plated blade with a sleek black handle. Viktor would settle for no less. It’s sharp, very sharp, and Yuuri scrapes it against Viktor’s skin lightly, peeling away the wax. The skin underneath is so pink, so soft and tender.

Viktor shudders every time the cold blade touches him. It makes its way up towards his neck, scratching and flaking. Viktor gasps sharply when it scrapes against his throat. The sound is so sweet to Yuuri’s ears–-terrified and thrilled. He presses the blade to his throat again, and Viktor makes the same sound, louder. Oh, Yuuri likes that a _lot._

“Are you scared?” he whispers.

“I-I,” Viktor gasps, “I’m-”

Yuuri presses the knife slightly harder against his skin.

“Answer.”

“Yes! Y-yuuri, I’m scared.”

Yuuri kisses him softly, then brings his lips down to his ear.

“Good.”

The blade glints in the candlelight, and Yuuri feels his breath catch. So beautiful, so hypnotizing. It glints a golden red again when it runs down Viktor’s chest towards his cock, and when he flakes the wax off his thighs, Viktor trembles hard.

With the wax removed, Viktor seems so fragile and raw. But Yuuri wants to see him broken.

There are candlesticks laid out on the dresser as well, but they’re meant to be held and dripped, so Yuuri’s saving them for last. These would burn much hotter, and he wants to make sure that Viktor’s skin is pink and aching when he uses them.

Yuuri runs the very tip of the blade against his chest now, watching the faint and fine imprint it makes. He presses down harder suddenly, and sees a more visible imprint, a light white scratch from his chest down to his abs. Viktor whimpers. Yuuri presses even harder. It reddens. 

The next time the blade moves across his skin, it draws blood, blossoming slowly out of the cut. 

Yuuri freezes. Red. Gleaming in the light of the dancing flames.

He bends forward suddenly, his tongue flicking out against it. Viktor gasps, then moans when Yuuri’s tongue presses harder. The sharp tang sends shivers down Yuuri’s spine. He wants _more_.

He draws back, and scrapes the razor lightly over Viktor’s skin. He applies sudden pressure every so often, and the gasps they bring are so very satisfying to hear. But he wants to hear _more_.

Yuuri draws the blade hard across his chest again, this time narrowly avoiding a nipple. As the fine cut reddens, Yuuri bends to lick it, and his mouth makes its way to Viktor’s nipple, teasing it with his tongue, flicking and sucking. Viktor moans, squirming underneath him.

In a flash, Yuuri suddenly grabs a handful of Viktor’s hair, yanking his head back, and brings the blade to his throat. Viktor nearly screams, and his body is now tense, frozen. Yuuri brings the blade across his throat, so lightly that it barely touches his skin. Viktor begins to tremble.

“Your life is in my hands,” Yuuri says softly. He likes this, his detached and quiet voice. It feels more threatening. “I could hurt you badly. I could end you.”

Viktor’s shuddering breath is swallowed into Yuuri’s mouth as he kisses him, the blade still at his throat. Yuuri presses himself down onto Viktor, their bodies melding together, and Viktor is hard, so very hard, and Yuuri feels his own heat rising.

He grinds his hips down, and Viktor cries out, his thighs beginning to tremble. Yuuri presses the blade harder against his throat.

“Don’t come until I’m done with you. I’ll be  _very_ upset if you do.”

The other man whimpers, then gasps and moans when Yuuri grinds his hips down again, rolling them slowly, pressing hard. His hips buck slowly, and his cock hardens against Viktor’s own. Viktor moans louder, trembling harder, spreading his legs wider, and his breathing grows ragged.

Yuuri stops. The blade presses against Viktor’s lips now.

“I _told_ you not to come,” he says, letting some of the anger reach his voice. “You’re going to fuck me, and if you come before I’m satisfied, I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

Viktor freezes again, and Yuuri can see the terror in his eyes without even removing his blindfold. Good.

Yuuri rises and, after some consideration, decides to bring the blade down on the reddened cut on his chest again. The blood wells, and Yuuri laps it up eagerly.

The blade strikes harder, and this time the blood flows freely, although it’s only a few droplets that stream down Viktor’s chest. A chest that heaves now when Yuuri presses his lips to the wound, sucking on it gently. 

Yuuri grips the razor harder when he draws back again, trembling with anticipation, but he stops himself. He has to be careful. _Very_ careful. 

He runs his hand down Viktor’s body, his eyes running as well; running over all the most sensitive and dangerous spots. He’ll have to avoid these, no matter how tempting it is for the both of them. 

His eyes continue to roam. The neck is very risky. He could nick it, and it’d be no worse than a shaving accident. So very careful. Precise. Steady hands. 

He lets the blade lightly caress Viktor’s throat, his neck, and he can see the artery pulsing. Yuuri licks his lips. 

No, not there. Not that sweet and aching spot. He places his fingers there now, feeling it throb, hard and fast, and he nearly drools.

But no. Not there. 

He nicks a somewhat safer spot, quickly and deftly, and Viktor gasps loudly. Streams flow down his neck, glistening in the flickering candlelight, and Yuuri stares, entranced. He reaches out slowly, touching it, letting his fingers disrupt the neat flow, letting it become messy, smearing it across Viktor’s neck and chest. His hand wraps around Viktor’s throat, squeezing, and he watches again as the blood wells and runs.

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasps again when his throat is released. Yuuri places his bloodied fingers against Viktor’s lips. He slips one into his mouth, and when he feels his tongue caress it, feels the gentle sucking, he shivers hard.

“Good boy,” he whispers. Viktor is behaving so well today.

He uses his other fingers to pry open his mouth, and presses the flat of the razor against his lips. Viktor freezes, hardly breathing. He cries out when the razor nicks his tongue, so quick and light, but Yuuri watches the blood rise, and he leans in fast to catch it in his own mouth.

Yuuri’s lips move slowly against his, letting the blood flavor their kiss. Viktor winces and whimpers as Yuuri’s tongue slides against his, the tip pressing into the wound, digging into it. Yuuri sucks on it gently, and he feels Viktor’s hardness again, feels him shift underneath him desperately. 

Viktor’s chest blooms beautifully when Yuuri strikes again, and his fingers move to smear, to trace patterns in shimmering red. So beautiful. His blade is smeared too, gold tinged with red, and it moves to trace over Viktor’s shoulders now.

What’s next?

Yuuri pauses, then reaches behind Viktor to undo his bonds. As he draws out Viktor’s arms from beneath him, his eyes pass over the danger zones again. The delicate wrists, the pulsing underarm, the thick vein standing out, _begging_.

No, not there. Yuuri lifts each hand, kissing the wrists, lips pressed against a quickening pulse, and he hears Viktor take a shuddering breath. But he releases them reluctantly, taking a moment longer to kiss Viktor’s gold ring, and his fingers move down to squeeze the forearm instead. Here, it’s much safer.

A glint of red, a flow of red. The blood runs down Viktor’s arm and he cries out, then screams when his other arm is slashed as well. Yuuri drops the razor for a moment to grab up either arm with his hands, squeezing, watching the bubbling red, and when his thumbs press into each wound, Viktor screams again, louder.

Yuuri’s hands leave sickly sweet trails as he runs them down Viktor’s body again, and when they reach his waist he squeezes _hard_ , his nails digging into soft skin sharply. Viktor grits his teeth and winces, but Yuuri feels him shift to spread his legs wider, trembling.

Yuuri’s hands drop to squeeze his thighs, and Viktor gasps, spreading wider, and he moans softly as Yuuri’s fingers ghost over the quivering skin. He scratches gently, and the skin is so soft, still so tender from the wax.

Viktor gasps at the feel of the cold blade pressing against his thighs, and when Yuuri runs it lightly up and down, Viktor whimpers, his body tensing, terrified.

“Are you scared?” Yuuri asks again, his voice nearly inaudible.

“Yes, Yuuri, _please_.”

“Hm? Please, what?”

Viktor takes a shuddering breath. “Please, scare me more.”

Yuuri wishes Viktor can see how sweetly he smiles at him.

He brings the razor down hard across the tops of Viktor’s thighs, and Viktor screams, his body jerking as Yuuri strikes again and again, and the marks all bloom into a beautiful crimson web at once, the blood running down either side, dripping down his thighs, and Yuuri smears the blood there with the flat of the blade, painting streaks across the soft inner thighs, and when the blade makes it way higher, Viktor is as frozen as he’s ever been.

The blade glides lightly over skin, nearing the vital artery, and Yuuri stops himself again. So _very_ dangerous. He’d bleed to death within minutes. And Viktor can sense that, because he’s still, hardly breathing.

Yuuri leans down to kiss it, to feel it pulse, to suck gently, and Viktor exhales slowly, then inhales sharply when Yuuri’s lips trail to his cock. He jerks, all fear forgotten, and his breathing quickens, his body trembling.

Yuuri finds himself wishing yet again that Viktor could see his face. He wants him to see the hunger. The bloodlust. But no, he'd rather surprise him. That’s far more frightening.

He kisses his way up and down the length of him, pausing to lick and suck slowly at his balls, then makes his way back up to the head, and he hovers, breath ghosting against it, and Viktor is so tense, nearly vibrating, and when Yuuri takes him completely, Viktor screams, bucking into his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ , Y-yuuri!”

Yuuri sucks slowly, teasingly, and he lets his razor slide against Viktor’s skin again. He makes small nicks along the thighs, careful not to stray anywhere dangerous. Viktor trembles hard, twisting, nearly sobbing, and growls in frustration when Yuuri pulls away.

He freezes again when the blade presses against his cock. Utterly frozen, silent. Yuuri presses it flat against him, so very carefully, and watches with great satisfaction as Viktor struggles to keep still. Yuuri keeps the blade pressed flat against the base of it, then leans down slowly to press his lips to the head. Viktor’s cry is muffled behind his sealed lips, and Yuuri can feel him fighting not to twitch when he licks and sucks.

Yuuri feels himself tremble slightly in anticipation as his lips wrap around Viktor’s cock. He wants to ride it. He wants to ride it until it breaks.

He rises and, before Viktor can even grunt in frustration, he slashes the blade down against his thighs again, letting the blood flow, and he brings it up his body now, tracing lightly but still hard enough to mark, and when the blade reaches Viktor’s throat it nicks it once more, and Yuuri’s mouth catches the glistening fire.

His bloodied lips meet Viktor’s again, his tongue pushing in, and Viktor accepts him in eagerly, moaning into his mouth.

“You taste so good,” Yuuri whispers against his lips as he pulls away, leaving the other man breathless.

Yuuri reaches for another thing they’d laid out on the dresser. He grabs Viktor’s hand, coating his fingers thickly with lube, then starts to guide him back, far back, and when Viktor blindly grabs onto his ass, Yuuri leans forward to whisper again.

“Finger me.”

Viktor obeys, and he slips a slick and trembling finger inside of him. Yuuri lets out a shaking breath as Viktor moves slowly in and out. Oh, _yes_.

He bucks his hips slightly as Viktor slips in another finger, sliding in and out faster, deeper, and Yuuri moans, spreading his legs wider, pushing back, letting himself be stretched further.

“Just like that. _Good_ ,” he breathes, then rises, and Viktor’s fingers slip out of him as he pulls back to drizzle lube thickly onto Viktor’s cock. Yuuri freezes, watching it drip down onto his thighs, watching it mingle with blood. He licks his lips.

Viktor’s impatient whine is cut short when Yuuri’s fingers squeeze around his cock. He pumps him slowly, watching him squirm and pant. But not for long, because he himself is squirming, his desire raging through him.

He mounts him, and as he positions himself he grabs up the razor again. It presses into Viktor’s throat, making him gasp in the middle of his long moan as Yuuri presses down onto him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuuri hisses, sliding himself down Viktor’s cock, and when it’s deep inside him he rolls his head back, panting, squeezing himself around it.

Viktor gasps again, his chest heaving, thighs parted and quivering, and his hips jerk when the blade nicks his skin. Yuuri moans, pressing the blade over and over, wanting to feel him jerk inside of him. 

The blood dribbling down the other man’s neck makes something inside Yuuri snap, and he drops the blade for a moment, his bloody hands grabbing onto Viktor tightly, and he raises his hips to slam them back down. Viktor throws his head back, crying out as Yuuri rides him hard, and the sound makes Yuuri ride faster, his own cries drowning out Viktor’s.

He feels Viktor shaking hard underneath him, and when he feels hands grope at his thighs, he stops. Viktor freezes and draws his hands back, terrified. 

Yuuri lets the stillness and silence linger, watching Viktor squirm helplessly, then he speaks.

“No,” he says softly, “that’s okay. Grab me. Now,” he adds, as Viktor hesitates. He feels large and firm hands grab onto him, squeezing his waist, trembling in fear and desire. Yuuri shivers.

“Grab me harder.” Viktor obeys.

Yuuri slowly reaches for the razor, and after a slight pause, it lashes out against Viktor’s forearms, and fresh blood runs down to mix with the barely-dried blood of his previous wounds. Viktor screams, but his grip on Yuuri doesn’t loosen, and Yuuri is pleased at this. He should reward him.

Yuuri bounces on Viktor’s cock, up and down, up and down, and Viktor gasps loudly, gripping his waist harder, moaning as Yuuri picks up speed, but when Viktor sounds like he’s being pushed over the edge, Yuuri stops again.

Viktor growls, forgetting himself, and Yuuri withdraws nearly completely, leaning forward to bite Viktor’s neck hard. The other man whimpers and gasps, but he hasn’t let go of Yuuri’s waist. Good.

Yuuri lifts his blindfold suddenly, and sees blue eyes blink at him in surprise. He kisses Viktor slowly, deeply, hard enough to make him moan and melt beneath him, then pulls away, and with their faces inches away, their eyes lock.

“Fuck me,” Yuuri says quietly.

Viktor’s eyes widen, but he squeezes Yuuri harder, jerking his hips up. Yuuri pushes his hips back in return, growling as Viktor thrusts up into him, jerky and desperate movements that become steady, picking up a pace that quickens now, and Viktor is moaning loudly, so loudly, nearly screaming, and Yuuri’s eyes roll back, screaming just as loud as Viktor drives into him, but when Viktor’s breath hitches into wild gasps, Yuuri pulls away, and when Viktor lets out a desperate cry and grabs him harder, trying to pull him back down onto his cock, Yuuri’s hand flies out to grab his throat, squeezing him until he sees the light fade from his eyes, until there’s nothing but the red flicker of flames.

He loosens his grip on him, and Viktor slumps back onto the bed, breathing weakly. Yuuri kisses his neck, his ear.

“Don’t. Come. Until. I. Tell. You. To,” he snarls, squeezing with every pause. Viktor sputters and whimpers, and Yuuri feels a wetness that’s either tears or blood,

Yuuri ties his blindfold back on, ignoring Viktor’s groan of protest. He leans back, mounting him again, and Viktor shakes as Yuuri lowers himself down onto his cock. Yuuri sighs, content, then takes up the razor. Just one last time, he thinks, and he wants to make it count.

He feels himself tremble as he grabs the handle hard, and his eyes barely even need to roam Viktor’s body as he strikes out over and over and over in familiar places; his arms, his chest, his neck, and Viktor is screaming and bloody when Yuuri’s vision snaps out of its red haze. His hands shake hard when he drops the razor, his fingers stained, and as the blood smears and glistens beneath them, he lifts himself, dropping back down hard, and Viktor screams again, his hands flying to squeeze Yuuri’s waist.

“ _Fuck me!_ ” Yuuri cries out, and Viktor obeys at once, trying to pace himself slowly, but Yuuri feels how absolutely desperate he is. Yuuri wants to stop, to tease him more, but he feels _so good_.

“Viktor,” Yuuri groans, sliding up and down, “god, your cock feels so fucking _good.”_ He jerks his hips, riding him harder.

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasps, “p-please-- _oh! Yuuri, please!”_

“Tell me what you want,” Yuuri purrs, squeezing.

“ _Scare me._ ”

Yuuri’s smile is so very sweet.

He reaches towards the dresser slowly, where the candles still burn brightly, and he grabs one of the candlesticks. It’s beautiful and gold, and when Yuuri holds the wick to the flame, it springs to life, and the wax that begins to run drips like molten metal.

He grips it tight, and it hovers over Viktor’s body. Yuuri watches in anticipation. The jerking of Viktor’s hips loosens the first drop, and when it hits flesh, Viktor _screams_.

“ _Yuuri!_ ”

The wick burns lower, and the candlestick drips. Gold melts down onto raw and bloody skin, and Yuuri can feel the searing heat. Or maybe it’s his own heat shooting through him, and he grabs his cock, stroking himself slowly.

The candle travels up and down Viktor’s chest, and when steaming drops fall against his wounds, Viktor shrieks, body jerking again, and Yuuri’s head rolls back.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuuri breathes, “scream for me, Viktor. _Scream_.”

The man doesn’t disappoint. The candle travels further, leaving its glistening trail of gold down his arms, across his many cuts and wounds, and Yuuri sees it run like lava over the pools and smears of blood. Red and gold streaks painting themselves across a beautiful and raw canvas.

This next part would be tricky. Yuuri wants so very badly to withdraw, to run the wax up and down Viktor’s thighs, but his cock feels so _good,_ driving inside of him nonstop, and Yuuri can’t imagine giving that up for even a second.

So he doesn’t. His candlestick has burnt low, so he grabs another, lighting it, and he reaches behind himself carefully. He doesn’t know where the wax will fall, so he guesses the both of them will be pleasantly surprised this time.

Once again, he isn’t disappointed, because Viktor screams so sweetly that Yuuri knows the wax must be flowing onto the network of slashes on his thighs, and he can just imagine it flowing down his inner thighs, burning, marking. He tries a little higher, then gasps, jumping, because it splashes against his own back, and he feels it run down, and Viktor screams again, and Yuuri wonders if it might have splashed against his cock. He switches hands, letting the wax come down onto his other thigh, and Viktor is sobbing by the time this candlestick burns itself out.

Yuuri grabs up the last one. He lights it.

It travels up Viktor’s body. To his throat. His smeared, bloody, nicked throat.

Yuuri watches the wax drip. Watches it fall onto sensitive and torn skin.

Viktor _screams_.

“ _YUURI_ ,” he chokes, and Yuuri releases his cock long enough to squeeze Viktor’s throat, pressing the burning liquid gold into his skin, into his wounds, and Viktor is screaming as loudly as he can with Yuuri’s hand wrapped tight around him, and Yuuri continues to drip wax, squeezing it as it pours over his hands, letting it drip between his fingers, burning and wet.

It flakes when he pulls away, and Yuuri grabs his cock again, shivering at the odd feeling of his raw fingers sliding against his skin, and the candlestick still burns, still hovering over Viktor’s neck.

“Fuck me harder,” Yuuri snarls, then gasps when he feels Viktor thrust harder into him, “oh, _yes_ , fuck, V-viktor!”

Viktor is moaning wildly, screaming and gasping whenever the wax drips against him, and Yuuri feels a heat shooting through himself that’s hotter than any flame he’s felt so far.

“ _Yes_ , Viktor, fuck me fast-- _GOD, yes_!” Yuuri cries, and he rides faster as Viktor drives into him even faster, and the feel of Viktor’s firm hands squeezing him, his fingers digging into his waist, nearly drives Yuuri over the edge, and he jerks himself off faster, gasping and moaning.

Without warning, he lets the candle hover over Viktor’s mouth for a split second, and when the tiniest of drops hits Viktor’s bruised and swollen lips, the man screams, and the sound is so terrified and thrilled that Yuuri’s eyes roll back, and he tenses, his breath hitching, and as Viktor’s cock slams into him deeper he screams, coming hard through his fingers, and he sees the cum mix itself into the drying wax, the drying blood, and every drop he squeezes out is as hot and thick as the burning wax above Viktor’s throat.

Viktor’s still fucking him hard, and Yuuri sees how desperate he is, how wild, how very tortured he’s been, to be denied for so long, only to be forced to hold back once he had been allowed to feel pleasure. It sends shivers down Yuuri’s spine.

As much as he wants to continue torturing him, Viktor’s been such a good boy today.

“Do you want me to scare you?” Yuuri whispers, and Viktor can somehow hear him above his screaming and moaning.

“ _YES!_ ” Viktor sobs.

With the last of the burning candlesticks, Yuuri lets it hover above Viktor’s blindfolded eyes. The molten gold drips down, and Viktor screams in terror, feeling the heat behind the thick fabric, and before Viktor’s scream has even torn itself halfway out of his throat, Yuuri blows out the candle, pausing for only a few brief seconds to let it cool from scalding to hot, then presses it down onto his chest, right below his throat.

“ _Come for me._ ”

Viktor’s screams are deafening as he comes, spasming and jerking wildly, sobbing with tortured relief, begging for mercy, and Yuuri moans and shudders as Viktor fills him, feeling it slick and dripping, dripping as thick as wax.

Yuuri pants and gasps, coming down from his high, and drops the remains of the candlestick. Viktor is shaking beneath him, and Yuuri can see how pale his skin is, even in the glow of the candlelight. He slides off of him and scrambles to his feet, groping against the wall for the switch, and when the lights flicker on, Yuuri rushes back to bed, blowing out the candles.

His breath catches when he sees that Viktor is even paler than he thought. The blood stands out starkly, still glistening, and Viktor is so white, still trembling, and the sheets around him are stained red. Yuuri snaps out of his daze, rushing to take him into his arms. 

“Hold on, Viktor,” he urges him, pulling off his blindfold quickly, and Viktor’s arms wrap themselves weakly around his neck as Yuuri carries him to the bathroom.

Yuuri places him gently into the tub, trying not to let him see how badly his hands are shaking. Viktor falls back limply, taking shuddering breaths, and Yuuri’s heart drops as he looks him over. He hadn’t expected him to bleed this much. He hadn’t been ready for this.

But Viktor had promised it would be okay.

With the water running, Yuuri stumbles to the counter, grabbing up a soft cloth and a kit they had stocked with bandages and gauze and ointments. He sits on the edge of the tub now, soaking the cloth with cool water, and presses it gently against Viktor’s wounds.

As the blood clears away, Yuuri lets out a sigh of relief. The wounds aren’t bleeding badly anymore. But Viktor had still lost quite a bit of blood. The cloth moves against each cut, against raw skin, and Yuuri is relieved again to see that none of the burns were severe. The place where Yuuri had pressed his candle against was the worst, but it hadn’t blistered enough to be a major concern.

Yuuri wrings the blood out of the cloth as he runs it under the cool water again. He brings it to the streaks of red, letting them run down, letting them be wiped away, making sure they no longer stained Viktor’s precious skin. The golden wax flakes away, and Yuuri makes sure that no pieces remain in any of the wounds.

He wrings the cloth again, and when he brings it to Viktor’s face, he sees the fear in his eyes, though it’s very faint and weak. Yuuri feels guilty. He wipes his face gently, dabbing softly at his cracked lips, and he brings his own against them, kissing him lightly.

The cloth is wrung again, and Yuuri throws it aside and grabs up another. He soaks it and lathers it in a gentle soap, then slowly cleans Viktor’s wounds. They bleed slightly, but Yuuri continues to clean, leaving nothing behind.

When he brings the cloth to Viktor’s throat, Viktor winces hard. Yuuri hesitates, taking in the sight. There’s several short but deep nicks, some of them dangerously close to vital areas, and Yuuri can see the imprints of his fingers and his teeth. He takes a deep and steady breath. He presses the cloth against them, and Viktor whimpers, but stays still as Yuuri clears away the blood in a gentle lather.

“Vitya,” he whispers, “it’ll be okay. Don’t be scared. _Ne nádo boyát'sya_.”

Viktor’s mind isn’t broken, but there’s still a primal-like fear in his eyes. They dart warily between Yuuri’s own.

“ _Prosto zakroy glaza_.”

Viktor obeys, closing his eyes, and Yuuri brings the cloth to his face, wiping, cleaning, and he rinses the cloth now, wiping the soap from his face, from his neck, from his body, and as Yuuri tosses this cloth aside to grab another to dry him, he turns back to see that Viktor’s eyes are open again, locked onto his own. The fear is still there.

Yuuri moves very slowly, dabbing each wound dry, not taking his eyes from Viktor’s. When he reaches his face again, Viktor winces slightly, but doesn’t look away. Yuuri moves even slower now, leaning forward, and their lips meet, and Yuuri kisses him as softly and slowly as he can.

“ _Moj milyj_ ,” he whispers as he pulls back, and something flickers in Viktor’s eyes.

Yuuri rubs ointment onto his wounds, then bandages them, using thick gauze pads on the worst spots. He rubs soothing creams on his burns, bandaging them as well, very gently, watching Viktor’s face for any signs of discomfort.

He washes the rest of Viktor’s body, carefully avoiding wetting the bandages, then washes his hair. He buries his face in it, and Viktor smells like fresh chamomile. Yuuri inhales deeply.

“I love you, Viktor.”

He feels Viktor’s arms wrap around him, his head resting against his chest. Yuuri holds him closer, shaking.

What had he done? What if something had gone wrong? He hadn’t known what the hell he was doing, so what if he had fucked up badly?

He shakes harder, and Viktor’s arms tighten around him.

“Don’t cry, Yuuri.”

Yuuri hadn’t even realized he was crying. He lets out a shuddering sob into Viktor’s hair, and he feels the tears come down, feels his chest heave, and he bites back another sob. No, he can’t stop crying. What if something had gone wrong? What if...

Viktor pulls back to look up at him, and Yuuri hesitates before looking back. His breath catches, because Viktor’s eyes aren’t wide with fear anymore.

“Don’t cry,” he says again, and he takes Yuuri’s hands, kissing each wrist, then kisses Yuuri’s gold ring. Yuuri is breathless. Viktor looks up at him, and the only thing shining in his eyes is love, and it burns brighter than any candle.

“ _Moj milyj_ ,” Viktor says softly, “let’s go to bed.”

The dresser is cleared off, the blade left aside to be cleaned, and with new sheets laid out, the two of them fall into bed, Viktor moving gingerly as he snuggles closer to Yuuri.

Yuuri buries his face into Viktor’s hair again, holding him tight, never wanting to let go. Viktor winces, and Yuuri relents, apologizing sheepishly. He traces light patterns on Viktor’s skin, the tips of his fingers smoothing over the trails the wax had blazed. Viktor sighs into Yuuri’s chest, melting against him.

“ _Ya tebya lyublyu_ ,” he whispers.

Yuuri kisses the top of his head, and the two drift away, bandaged in sheets and in each other, their sleep soothing their wounds.

**Author's Note:**

> This series might as well be named "Viktor is fucked and thrown into a bathtub."


End file.
